The Hidden

And the pictures...

Ben had undoubtedly been right. She’d been hacked or tricked or played for a fool, somehow. She had just bought it on impulse at the electronics shop at the Miami airport, so some jerk there had probably fooled with it.

But how would anyone at the airport have known that she would be staying in the mountains, much less right here at this very ranch? She was certain she hadn’t said anything.

She let out a groan of self-disgust.

Getting shaky over this was ridiculous.

Scarlet stepped outside and started to close the door, but she paused and looked back, then said, “You all behave in here, do you understand me? I’m your best friend, preserving your history for posterity, so you need to listen to me, okay?”

Naturally, the mannequins did not reply.

She closed and locked the door and headed for her car, determined to think only about which restaurant to choose in town.





2

“The invitation will always stand,” FBI agent Brett Cody said, glancing over at Diego. “I’ve got to say, amigo, you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. So,” he added, “even if you don’t accept right now, we’ll always want you in the Krewe. And that really means something. No one gets into the Krewe by asking—it’s invitation only.”

Diego looked over at his partner. Brett was finishing out his last day at the Miami field office; he’d transferred in to the FBI’s Krewe of Hunters—the elite unit that investigated crimes that crossed over into the supernatural—when they’d closed a recent major case, a series of “zombie” murders that had rocked Miami.

Not only that, but Brett was also now engaged to Lara Mayhew, who’d been key in helping them solve the case—in part by calling in longtime friends who were part of the Krewe—after a truly whirlwind romance. Not that he should comment on that. He and Scarlet had gotten married less than two months after meeting.

Would they have made it, if not for the accident?

He didn’t know. And there was no reason for him to doubt Brett and Lara just because of his own failure.

His mind returned to the recent case, when they’d been aided by the ghosts of several of the victims. Brett had actually been visited by them, and though he’d balked, he’d finally come to believe.

Diego wondered why he himself really had no problem believing in ghosts. He’d seen the murdered couple—Miguel and Maria Gomez—and never questioned the reality of the experience.

Then again, he’d grown up Cuban and Irish, and between the two sides of the family, he’d heard stories about ghosts, pixies, chupacabras, espíritus and all kinds of otherworldly beings. Maybe because of that, he hadn’t even been shaken when he’d seen Miguel’s and Maria’s ghosts.

Maybe that was why he’d been invited to join the Krewe along with Brett. But the Krewe only had offices in New York City and Alexandria, with teams dispatched all over the country as needed, and for years he’d wanted to fight the good fight in his native Miami. Still, it was hard thinking that he and Brett would no longer be partners; they’d worked together for several years and had become good friends. He’d always felt safe knowing that Brett had his back.

Of course, for now Brett would be coming and going. Lara wasn’t giving up her job at the Sea Life Center, so they were going to be long-distance lovers for a while. And he knew that the Bureau could transfer him anywhere, but unless his bosses forced him to leave Miami, he just wasn’t ready to move yet.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Diego assured Brett. “Let’s finish this, shall we?”